Page 71 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Epilogue

Raph

She’d been magnificent.

She was still magnificent, hair a mess, lipstick chewed off, head pressed back into the pillows, eyes closed.

Her fingers were still wrapped tightly around mine, even as she took a much-deserved nap.

A breast pump sat on the rolling table, because of course, my woman was going to try to do that for the babies.

Catherine Hazelbeth and Leonardo Oliver Aubert had made their entrance healthy, albeit a bit on the small side. Mom and Dad were currently with them in the NICU for some precautionary testing, but the doctors didn’t expect it to take longer than an hour or two.

And Beth, who’d just pushed out two babies, had cried when she heard the names.

Then cried some more when she had watched Pru and Marcel holding them.

But her tears had dried when she held them, softly brushing her finger over their downy cheeks. “I’m going to be your favorite auntie,” she whispered. “We’re going to have all the fun and give your mommy and daddy all the gray hairs.”

Then she looked at me. “Can you take them? My arms—” She’d been tired, so tired she could barely hold them. And I knew that while she knew they weren’t her babies, they also were , would always be in many ways.

I felt the same.

The babies were mine, but not.

So, I held them before their parents had reclaimed them, and then I held her hand, read up on pumping breastmilk, and stayed with Beth while she slept.

A while later, her lids slid open. “I want our own,” she whispered, sending my heart pounding as her eyes connected with mine. “We’ll rock it as aunt and uncle, but we’re going to kill it as parents.”

I tucked my phone away then smoothed back her hair, smiled at the woman who owned me. “Plus, it’ll be fun putting in the effort to make them.”

She grinned, but then started to sit up. “I should?—”

“Rest.” A squeeze of her hand. “You should rest and recover your strength and then get back to the I shoulds.”

“Right,” she whispered, lids already struggling to stay open. “When did you get so smart?”

“Probably around the time I watched you push those babies out, sugarpie.”

Her head tilted toward me, a blip of uncertainty. “Was it too much?”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, honey.”

“Oh.”

“Though Pru and Marcel holding them was a close second.”

Beth’s face gentled. “They’ll be great parents.”

“They already are.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes closed. “Mila is so wonder—” She broke off on a yawn.

I smoothed her hair again, coaxed her to sleep, and then when her eyes were closed, I glanced down at her hand in mine.

And smiled.

And…wondered how long it would take for her to realize that I’d just slipped a giant ass diamond ring on her finger.

Or to see the cooler of beers Pru had left by the door.

“You know,” she whispered, a week later, curled up beside me in bed. “I’m really not minding having my body back.”

“Because of the ability to drink beer?”

“Well, that,” she said, cuddling closer, “and because this fits.”

She held up her hand, my diamond glittering in the pale light.

“Does that mean you’ve finally noticed it?”

In fairness, the moment her eyes had landed on the ring, she’d softened, eyes going damp, and she’d leaned up to kiss me.

Acceptance without words.

Though, a yes wouldn’t have been remiss.

Except, then Pru and Marcel had come back, and Beth had begun pumping, and then there had been feedings and diaper changes and checks by nurses and doctors.

The days had been a blur of activity, and by the time she and I had made it home, we’d slept for what felt like two full days—and that was without having to care for two tiny humans.

Still, Beth was pumping like a champ, the twins were growing, Mila Rose had adjusted without incident, and Pru and Marcel had gone from a family of two to five in just a few months.

“Maybe,” she murmured, grinning as she rotated her hand from side to side. “It is very sparkly, and you know how much I like that.”

“Pain in my ass,” I muttered.

She burrowed into my side. “One you love.”

“Damn right I do. You’re my pain in the ass.”

“You’re so romantic,” she teased.

Solemn eyes. “Is that why you haven’t said yes?”

Her fingers traced nonsensical patterns on my chest. “Well, I mean, technically, you just shoved a ring on my finger—one, I’m just saying, that was swollen so that it was impossible to get said ring off—and left it at that. You haven’t actually asked.”

That was true.

So, I rolled us, sliding off the edge of the bed, drawing her to her feet and taking myself down on one knee.

“My fierce protector, my ball-buster, my beautiful, smart, strong woman”—I kissed the ring on her finger—“you were a dream, a fantasy, and somehow I was lucky enough for you to become my reality.”

Tears—more happy ones—dripped down her cheeks. “Raph,” she warned.

“You wanted romance, honey, but I can only give you the truth.” I kissed her palm, the inside of her wrist, her pulse rapid fire against my lips. “You’re my heart.”

She inhaled. “Raph.”

“You’re my soul and my hopes for the future and my happiness in the now, and so I’m asking you— No. Maybe I’m begging you to be my wife.”

A sniff, her hand dashing across her cheeks, wiping away the tears, and she nodded.

“Is that a yes?”

Another sniff. “I mean, technically you still didn’t ask the question.”

I grinned, nipped lightly at the inside of her wrist. “A smart ass even when I give her romance.”

Dancing blue eyes. “You like my ass.”

“I love it.” A beat and then I gave her what she needed—because I always would. “Will you marry me, Beth Mason?”

Her hand on my cheek. “I would love to marry you, Raphael Gomez. You’re my forever, my always. You looked at the broken pieces of me and somehow thought they were beautiful, and I promise, promise that I will do the same for you. Forever and always.”

Now my eyes were wet.

But I didn’t give a fuck that the wet escaped, not when she was in my arms, my ring on her finger, her mouth on mine, her body pressed tight.

This was my future.

And I couldn’t wait to live every moment of it.